


Balm

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-19 00:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11302044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Nothing soothes Erestor like the spirit in his bath.





	Balm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ulan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ulan/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for tagulansahulyo’s “20 [Bath/Water Spirit] -- Glorfindel/Erestor.” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/161379570810/au-prompt-list).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

After a long day of work, Erestor loves nothing more than to slip into the warm water of his private bath. One of the many perks of being on Lord Elrond’s council, being a chief advisor with long standing in Imladris, is this: not just a simple tub, but a wide basin set into the very stone of his bathing chambers. The white surface is polished and shimmers through the clear water, illuminated in the many candles he’s set about the counters. With his clothes fully removed and his dark hair bundled above his head, Erestor is finally free to _relax_ , as only this allows him. 

Occasionally, he likes to watch the bubbles come, watch the calm waters boil into a thrashing whirlpool, watch the dazzling lights that catch in its tides, but tonight, his eyes fall closed. He simply lets it happen. He basks in the luxurious lick of the froth along his chest and arms, and he can feel the flicker of his candles in the growing wind. When he opens his eyes again, the magic is complete. Glorfindel sits before him.

Propped against the other side, this strange spirit, Maia or perhaps even Vala, is an ethereal beauty more gorgeous than Erestor could imagine. His idle dreams never reached such heights until Glorfindel first appeared to him, golden hair glittering with little beads of water and eyes bluer than the sea. Glorfindel’s toned chest is as bare as Erestor’s, though it seems he should wear many royal jewels, and he stretches languidly out, so that his folded legs brush along Erestor’s. Even the barest touch of Glorfindel’s ankles against his calves makes Erestor shiver. With a winning smile too pure for any elf, Glorfindel asks, “Another long day, my friend?”

“Yes,” Erestor sighs, and only to this one being will he admit it aloud. “But my lord likely had a more difficult one, and I half feared you would appear to him instead.” He isn’t exactly fishing, but he’s thought that one line through carefully. Glorfindel lifts one slender brow.

“Fear? _You_?” Glorfindel’s voice is somewhere between a minstrel’s and a warrior’s: such art and strength all at once. When Erestor declines to answer the jibe, he finishes, “I am not a slave to the water, you know. I do choose where I appear.”

 _And Erestor is his first choice._ Unspoken, the line still slips into Erestor’s heart. He murmurs, “But a shame you are confined to the water nonetheless.”

The grin grows wider across Glorfindel’s attractive features, his eyes crinkling with it. Erestor casually stretches one leg farther out, allowing it to trace Glorfindel’s outer thigh, but Glorfindel’s eyes remain locked with his. Glorfindel asks, as though it isn’t overtly obvious even for someone as stern and private as Erestor, “Have you become that fond of me?”

Erestor dares to trace along Glorfindel’s hip and thinks of creeping closer. He’s longed for this all day, hoped and prayed for it, to be able to crawl into Glorfindel’s lap, or have Glorfindel fall into his. But he leaves the first true move to his greater, for he knows Glorfindel must be that, bondage to water or no. He’s respectful in all things.

And when he only devours Glorfindel with his eyes, Glorfindel whispers low, “The water flows freer in Valinor, you know. We can be together all the time... when you sail.”

Erestor can’t help a tiny laugh. He mutters, “Stop tempting me,” and muses, “is that truly what you have come for? To seduce all of Lord Elrond’s faithful servants away?” If that is the Valar’s plan, it’s a fine one. Erestor knows of few who could resist Glorfindel’s charms. 

But Glorfindel shakes his head and insists, “I was only exploring what little I could here—I assure you, I had no intention of being seduced myself so often to the surface.”

As Erestor spreads his legs in final offering, he murmurs, “But I am glad you have.”

Finally, Glorfindel moves towards him. Stalking forward like a cat, Glorfindel comes to him, slips into the inviting ‘v’ between Erestor’s thighs and brushes his lips along Erestor’s throat. Erestor’s head falls back, lips parting in a little gasp, a moan caught in his throat—Glorfindel’s handsome body flattens into his, as warm and _real_ as any Elven flesh. He purrs into Erestor’s ear, “ _As am I_.” And then he takes all of Erestor’s troubles away.


End file.
